


maybe this could be the first time (i've felt love)

by friendlybomber



Series: Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae, F/M, Fluff, hand-holding, happy endings and happy beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10867041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlybomber/pseuds/friendlybomber
Summary: Alistair and Ethelan held hands for the first time on three separate occasions.





	maybe this could be the first time (i've felt love)

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEN1UbPCF7c

Alistair and Ethelan held hands for the first time on three separate occasions.

The first time came before she undertook her Joining, when they journeyed into the Korcari Wilds to collect blood and treaties and other Grey Warden-scented objects. They had only met that day, and already Alistair could see why Duncan had chosen her for the Wardens. She was tiny, the crown of her head peaking at Alistair’s shoulder, and even sweating through grey skin and fighting through tremors, she was resolute. Alistair hadn’t seen many elves fight before, but when this Ethelan did, he understood the stories of great Dalish Wardens of the past.

Yet the instant she lowered her bow, the fierceness disappeared. Duncan had said she had been tainted for over two weeks, and Alistair could tell. But, even though she was pale and shaking and prone to hacking coughs, she was almost… bright. Even beneath the solemnity – apparently she had left her clan amidst great tragedy – she had an air of cheerful contentment. He had only known her for a few hours, and he could feel the force of her heart. And it was purer than anything he had ever seen before.

And she couldn’t have been any older than he was. And she smiled awfully wide at him. And she laughed at his jokes. And she even made a few of her own.

And she might die that night, he reminded himself. No use getting attached now. She might pull through, but nothing was guaranteed.

He hoped she pulled through. She was looking awfully faint.

They paused at a sloping hill for her to catch her breath. Daveth levelled some snide taunt her way, and Alistair opened his mouth to keep the peace. Before he got a single word out, however, Ethelan had already beaten him to it.

“Ha ha,” she said. “Very funny. Mock the short one so. I have to take three times as many steps to keep up with you lot.”

“I’m just saying,” Daveth smiled.

She jostled his shoulder. “Whatever. Just give me a moment like.”

Daveth and Ser Jory idled, chewing the scenery or twiddling their thumbs or doing whatever it was people did when idling. Alistair placed a hand on Ethelan’s shoulder and leaned in, separating them from the rest of their party.

“Are you alright?” he asked beneath his breath.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. She coughed violently into her arm. “I’ll be okay, Alistair. Don’t worry about me.”

He fixed her with a skeptical look. “Right. Duncan’ll kill me if you don’t make it back for your Joining. There _is_ danger out in the Wilds, but we’d rather you all survived. Imagine, you travelled all the way here just to die on a fetch quest. Anti-climactic, really.”

She giggled, and he felt his chest go all warm and fuzzy. “I’m not about to drop dead right here. I just need a moment to catch my breath.”

“Tsk, darn,” Alistair said. “And I had your eulogy written and everything. ‘Here lies Ethelan, eaten alive by bog. She was a valiant fighter and an excellent long-distance sprinter.’”

Ethelan laughed, a deep, fully, belly laugh. She patted his shoulder. “First, it’s Mahariel. That’s what everyone calls me. Second, elves are natural sprinters, but we’re not built for long-distance running. Very dangerous over short distances. I’m just the exception. Third, when that happens, bury me in the turf where I belong.”

Alistair grinned. “Noted. My mistake. I’ll make sure to erect a statue in your honor right there, next to that charming patch of mushrooms. I’ll have to carve it myself though, so it’s going to be hideous.”

“Can you do a mabari? I’d love for it to be a mabari,” she said.

“I’ll do you one better,” he offered. “It’ll be a whole pack of mabari, all clamoring to get at a cheese-shaped darkspawn. Now, really, are you alright to move on?”

Ethelan coughed into her arm again and straightened up. “Yes. Let’s go.”

She jerked her head at the other two members of their party, and they set off up the hill again.

As they walked, Alistair felt Ethelan’s shoulder brush his arm. He glanced down. She mumbled an apology, but took his hand in hers for just a moment and squeezed it. She let it drop, smiled up at him, and murmured a quick, “Thanks,” before jogging ahead to take the lead. He watched her go, his hand buzzing, and hoped the other men failed to notice the pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

That was before Ostagar fell. It seemed hard to believe that was a simpler time.

The second time they held hands was on their way to the Brecilian Forest from Kinloch Hold. They followed a dusty dirt path through some nobleman’s woods, gold light streaming down between the sparse trees. Leliana sang a lighthearted travel song up near the front of their microcosmic caravan, and Fenlathal the mabari dashed in between the party’s feet. Ethelan and Alistair dawdled near the back just behind Wynne and prattled on about something stupid, no doubt.

“What about shoes?” Alistair levelled. “Did you wear shoes before becoming a Grey Warden?”

“Not if I could help it,” she said. She kicked her boots up in the dirt. “It’s so much nicer to be barefoot like.”

“But what if your feet smell bad? Then the whole camp has to smell your stinky feet,” Alistair said.

“Feet only smell bad if you leave them in shoes all day,” Ethelan argued. “They’re fine if you let them breathe.”

“But what if you step on, I don’t know, an acorn, or something?” he said. “Do you just bleed all over your aravels then?”

“I wouldn’t bleed from stepping on an acorn,” Ethelan laughed. “A pinecone, maybe, and even then, my feet are calloused to the Fade and back.” She smiled sunnily to herself, amused by some private thought. “Acorn. Ha.” She turned her smile up at him. “You’re so cute.”

Alistair blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Cute? I am, aren’t I? But, so are you.”

She giggled and grasped hold of his hand. His heart skipped a beat, and he glanced down at her, his tongue suddenly dry. She swung their joined hands between them as they walked, humming merrily to herself, her cheeks threatening to consume her big, Dalish-blue eyes. He glanced around at the rest of their party. If anyone noticed, none cared. He carefully, so carefully, let himself relax. It felt nice, holding her hand. It felt nicer than anything in the entire world.

Who knows? Maybe there was something to this whole “end of the world” business. It certainly made the simple pleasures that much more important.

But that was only the second first time they held hands. The third came ten years later, in Denerim. Time had changed them both and worn them thin, yet she was still Ethelan with the sunny smile and the pure heart. It was strange, falling in love with someone all over again after so much had gone wrong the first time. It was innocent. It was cathartic.

The first time they had been in love had ended in tears and a coronation. Eamon’s words still echoed in his ears: “You can’t honestly intend to make her your queen. Ferelden won’t accept it.” And he had listened. Damnit, he had listened, and broken both their hearts.

Ten years of too much trouble later, she was no longer a Warden-Commander, and he was still a king. It was the Call of an Old God that tied them together again. They would learn in the coming months, once pride tore the sky like a green curtain, that the Calling was false this time, but for now, they needed to be together. They had survived one Blight side-by-side, and the only way they’d get through this one was by doing the same. It was like coming home, in a twisted, macabre way.

And just like the first time around, he found himself slipping slowly into the sound of her laughter and the force of her heart. It seemed some things were simply meant to be, no matter what the world decided.

She didn’t see him enter the garden, but she could undoubtedly sense him. She was bent forward over the daisy beds, her eyes closed, smiling in the white sunlight. Maker, she was beautiful. She wasn’t the girl he had met at Ostagar, but she still made his heart skip a beat and his head fuzz up and his pulse quicken and his tongue go dry.

He almost laughed. He had closed his eyes and fallen for her all over again without realizing.

He didn’t know what it was that made his chest feel all warm and tingly, but it sure felt an awful lot like love.

He sidled up next to her and watched her breathe in ever so slightly. In that moment, he memorized the curve of her slightly parted lips, the tilt of her chin, the fluttering of her eyelashes, the scent of her unwashed hair, the sound of her breath. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as her before in his life, nor would he ever see one again. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to caress her cheek. He wanted to look at her for hours.

He reached out and grasped her hand.

She intertwined her fingers with his, and they breathed out together in harmony. Somewhere in the gardens, birds chirped in that merry and disjointed way birds do. The daisies beneath their feet tilted their heads toward the warm, pale sun. To their left, a rose bush flowered.

Perhaps circumstance had drawn them apart before. But now, ten years later, with the fate of the world no longer theirs to bear, they were born anew. They weren’t a king and a hero; they were simply Alistair and Ethelan, standing in the light of a new day and holding hands for the first time in a lifetime.

Maybe it wasn’t _really_ the first time. But it sure felt like it. And that was something far beyond perfection.     


End file.
